all i can say is, good luck, i hope your wish comes true... although i doubt it sorry (i'm in a bit of a bad mood) i like the fact that in the poem your not looking out the window your lying on the grass, i read too many of the window ones, although theres quite a few grass ones too, i think i might try something a bit more original (like, lying on your back in the water or the sand on a beach-well maybe not that one-i don't know something new that we haven't heard before, give it a whirl)

This is an extremely vague poem, though I'm guessing that's how you intended it. Like most tragically short poetry, I'm initially tempted to brush this off as the author's laziness and lack of ambition to actually WORK for a poem. But I'm not going to do that here, because I don't think that's the case.

You use few words, but you choose them very carefully. "As I lay on the grass"-nice. You start out by setting up an immediate contrast between humans ("I") and nature ("the grass"); you do the same thing in the next line, with "I" and "sky." It seems to me that your persona is confused-he or she doesn't really understand happiness. He doesn't know what to do with his life; and it's even more interesting that you use the word "wishing" instead of "praying" or "hoping." While "praying" would imply the presence of a higher power who could actually do something, and "hoping" implies a simple human convention in which God isn't really involved at all, you use "wishing"-it's like he doesn't know if God exists, but if God does exist, He can help the persona find "happiness."

I'll have to admit that I was disappointed in the final lines. They seemed a little cliche-"wishing for happiness." I think they could've been more original. If I had to recommend a revision, I'd ask that you change the last two lines to better fit in with the nature vs. man rhetoric you use in the beginning of the poem.

This piece is very good, I think. It reminds me of Thomas Hardy's "Nature's Questioning" (a great poem; you should read it if you haven't already). It's like the other way around in his piece, though: nature questions man: "Why are we here? You seem to have the answers." When man has no idea what the hell he's really doing.

One more thing, then I'll stop typing (I feel bad already for flooding your comment page). Why do we feel uneasy when we question our own existence? Whenever someone starts talking about astronomy, other galaxies, supernovas-I don't know why, but my stomach turns. In your poem, the persona looks "at the moon, the stars." That's something we do often, too often. Does God (or the gods) want us to question our origin? Or are we sinning thorugh our curiosity? I'll leave you with that thought.